The Athenians obtained possession of Epipolæ, in spite of the frequent sorties of the besieged, and surrounded the city with a wall of circumvallation. Nicias, by the recall of Alcibiades and the death of Lamachus, who was killed in an action, found himself without colleagues, and sole master of all the operations. Casting aside his habitual tardiness, he brought his fleet into both the ports, and pressed the siege on with energy by sea and land. Syracuse, thus blockaded, was reduced to the last extremity. The despairing citizens were already thinking of surrendering, when Gylippus, a Lacedæmonian captain, sent to their relief with a good body of troops, made his appearance. Hope was again revived, and, in anticipation, they proclaimed the Spartan the father and liberator of Syracuse. This general did not disappoint the expectations of his allies. He sent word to the Athenians that he allowed them five days to evacuate Sicily. Nicias did not condescend to make any reply to such a message, but some of his soldiers asked the herald whether the appearance of a Lacedæmonian cloak and a miserable stick could change the fortunes of armies. Preparations for battle were made on both sides. Port Labdalon was carried by assault, and all the Athenians who defended it were put to the sword. Every day some skirmish or more serious action occurred, in which Gylippus had always the advantage. Nicias was forced to go into cantonments towards Plemmyrium, in order to protect his baggage and to support his fleet. The Lacedæmonians attacked and carried his forts, and took possession of his baggage, at the same time that the Syracusans obtained a serious advantage over his fleet. Nicias was in a state of perfect consternation; he had informed the Athenians of the miserable state of his army since the landing of the Spartans, and they had promised him succours, but they did not arrive, and his situation became alarming. He was on the point of succumbing to his fate, when an Athenian fleet of seventy-three galleys, commanded by Demosthenes, sailed proudly into port. This general immediately planned and attempted some attacks, but his temerity cost him dear. He lost a great number of soldiers, and quickly destroyed all the hopes his arrival had created; the Athenians were reduced to greater extremities than ever, and they resolved to raise the siege after risking another naval engagement. Victory still was favourable to the besieged, who deprived their enemies of the means of flight even, by blockading their ships in the greater port. They then turned their thoughts to escape by land; but Hermocrates, being informed of their intention, barred every passage: the unfortunate fugitives, having set out on their march in the night-time, fell into ambuscades laid for them in all directions. They defended themselves in a manner worthy of their name, but, overpowered by numbers, fatigue, and hunger, they were forced to surrender at discretion. They were thrown into the public prisons.
The Syracusan people were brutally elated with victory, and sullied their triumph by the cruelty exercised upon the two Athenian leaders, Nicias and Demosthenes. They were sentenced to be flogged with rods, and then to be executed. The wiser and more prudent Syracusans exceedingly disapproved of this severity, and Hermocrates, the general whose prudence, skill, and valour had brought about the happy issue of the contest, remonstrated strongly with the people; but they were too much excited to listen to him, and would not allow him even to finish his speech. And here we meet with one of those incidents which, removed from common occurrence, render the histories of the two great nations of antiquity so delightful. Just as the noisy crowd silenced their victorious general, an ancient Syracusan, venerable for his great age and his respected character, who in the siege had lost two sons, the only heirs of his name and estate, was borne by his servants to the tribunal, and by his appearance at once procured a profound silence. “You here behold,” said he, “an unfortunate father, who has felt, more than any other Syracusan, the fatal effects of this war by the death of two sons, who formed all the consolation and were the only support of my old age. I cannot, indeed, forbear admiring their courage, and rejoicing at their felicity, in sacrificing to their country’s welfare a life of which they would one day have been deprived by the common course of nature; but then I cannot but be strongly affected by the wound which their death has made in my heart, nor forbear hating and detesting the Athenians, the authors of this unhappy war, as the murderers of my children. But, however, I cannot conceal one circumstance, which is, that I am less sensible to my private affliction than to the honour of my country; and I see it ready to expose itself to eternal infamy by the barbarous advice which is now given you. The Athenians, indeed, merit the worst treatment, and every kind of punishment that can be inflicted on them, for so unjustly declaring war against us; but have not the gods, the just avengers of crimes, punished them and avenged us sufficiently? When their generals laid down their arms and surrendered, did they not do this in the confidence of having their lives spared? And if we put them to death, will it be possible for us to avoid the just reproach of having violated the laws of nations, and dishonoured our triumph by the most barbarous cruelty? What! will you suffer your glory to be thus sullied in the face of the whole world, and have it said that a nation who first dedicated a temple in their city to Clemency, found not any in yours? Surely victories and triumphs do not give immortal glory to a city; but the exercising of mercy towards a vanquished enemy, the using of moderation in the greatest prosperity, and, fearing to offend the gods by a haughty and insolent pride. You, doubtless, have not forgotten that this Nicias, whose fate you are going to pronounce, was the very man who pleaded your cause in the assembly of the Athenians, and employed all his credit and the whole power of his eloquence to dissuade his country from embarking in this war. Should you, therefore, pronounce sentence of death upon this worthy general, would it be a just reward for the zeal he showed for your interest? With regard to myself, death would be less grievous to me than the sight of so horrid an injustice committed by my countrymen and fellow-citizens.”
The people seemed moved to compassion by this speech, especially as when the venerable old man first ascended the tribunal, they expected to hear him cry aloud for vengeance on those who had brought his calamities upon him, instead of suing for their pardon. But the enemies of the Athenians having expatiated with vehemence upon the unheard-of cruelties which their republic had exercised upon several cities belonging to their enemies, and even to their ancient allies; the inveteracy which their commanders had shown against Syracuse, and the evils they would have subjected it to had they been victorious; the afflictions and groans of numberless Syracusans who bewailed the death of their children and near relations, whose names could be appeased no other way than by the blood of their murderers: on these representations, the people returned to their sanguinary resolution. Gylippus used his utmost endeavours, but in vain, to have Nicias and Demosthenes delivered up to him, especially as he had taken them, in order to carry them to Lacedæmon. But his demand was rejected with haughty scorn, and the two generals were put to death. Shameful cruelties were likewise inflicted upon the meaner prisoners.
Such was the issue of this improvident war, set on foot by the influence of the restless ambitious Alcibiades. It lasted two years; and Athens had been led to form great hopes from the result of it. There are few characters young readers are more likely to be led astray in than that of Alcibiades. The instances of his spirit, generosity, personal beauty, and above all, his love for his master Socrates, make more impression upon plastic minds, than what is told of almost any other person in history. But, if he had shining qualities, he was deficient in all that were solid, virtuous, and serviceable to the state. He availed himself of his popularity to carry out his ambition; his apparent generosity was selfishness disguised; his courage was always ill-directed; and, whether we consider such a man as a public character or a private citizen, our young readers may depend upon it, it is one of the most dangerous.
SECOND SIEGE, A.C. 400.
Dionysius, the tyrant of Syracuse, having declared war against the Carthaginians, obtained several victories over them. But this tyrant was soon punished by the siege which Himilco, the Carthaginian general, laid to Syracuse, with a fleet of two hundred vessels, and an army of a hundred thousand foot and three thousand horse. Dionysius was not in a condition to stop the torrent which threatened him with destruction; but pestilence served him more effectually than any number of troops could have done: this army and its generals faded away beneath the awful scourge, as it were instantaneously. The tyrant, taking advantage of the miserable state to which disease had reduced the Carthaginians, attacked them with spirit, defeated them without trouble, took or burnt most of their vessels, and made a vast booty.
THIRD SIEGE, A.C. 212.
In the year 212 before Christ, the Syracusans, excited by seditious magistrates, declared war against Rome, breaking the treaties entered into by Hiero II. and the great republic. The consul Marcellus, being in Sicily, advanced towards Syracuse. When near the city, he sent deputies to inform the inhabitants that he came to restore liberty to Syracuse, and not to make war upon it; but he was refused admission to the city. Hippocrates and Epicydes went out to meet him, and having heard his proposals, replied haughtily, that if the Romans intended to besiege their city, they should soon learn the difference between Syracuse and Leontium. Marcellus then determined to besiege the place,—by land on the side of Hexapylum, and by sea on that of the Achradinæ, the walls of which were washed by the waves. He gave Appius the command of the land forces, and reserved that of the fleet for himself. The fleet consisted of sixty galleys of five benches of oars, filled with soldiers, armed with bows, slings, and darts, to scour the walls. There were a great number of other vessels, laden with all sorts of machines usually employed in the sieges of fortified places. The Romans, carrying on their attacks at two different places, the Syracusans were at first in great consternation, apprehensive that nothing could oppose so terrible a power and such mighty efforts. And it had, indeed, been impossible to resist them, but for the assistance of one single man, whose wonderful genius was everything to the Syracusans: this was Archimedes. He had taken care to supply the walls with all things necessary for a good defence. As soon as his machines began to play on the land side, they discharged upon the infantry all sorts of darts, with stones of enormous weight, which flew with so much noise, force, and rapidity, that nothing could withstand their shock. They beat down and dashed to pieces all before them, and occasioned terrible disorder in the ranks of the besiegers. Marcellus succeeded no better on the side of the sea: Archimedes had disposed his machines in such a manner as to throw darts to any distance. Though the enemy lay far from the city, he reached them by means of his larger and more formidable balistæ and catapultæ. When these overshot their mark, he had smaller, proportioned to the distance, which put the Romans into such confusion as almost paralyzed their efforts. This was not the greatest danger. Archimedes had placed lofty and strong machines behind the walls, which suddenly letting fall vast beams with an immense weight at the end of them upon a ship, sunk it to the bottom. Besides this, he caused an iron grapple to be let out by a chain, and having caught hold of the head of a ship with this hook, by means of a weight let down within the walls, it was lifted up, set upon the stern, and held so for some time; then, by letting go the chain, either by a wheel or a pulley, it was let fall again with its whole weight either on its head or its side, and thus sunk. At other times, the machines, dragging the ship towards the shore, by cordage and hooks, after having made it whirl about a great while, dashed it to pieces against the points of the rocks which projected under the walls. Galleys, frequently seized and suspended in the air, were whirled about with rapidity, exhibiting a dreadful sight to the spectators, after which, they were let fall into the sea, and sunk to the bottom with their crews.
Marcellus had prepared, at great expense, machines called sambucæ, from their resemblance to a musical instrument of that name. He appointed eight galleys of five benches for that purpose, from which the oars were removed, half on the right side and half on the left; these were joined together two-and-two on the sides without oars. This machine consisted of a ladder of the breadth of four feet, which, when erect, was of equal height with the walls. It was laid at length upon the sides of the two galleys joined together, and extended considerably beyond their beaks: upon the masts of these vessels were affixed pulleys and cords. When set to work, the cords were made fast to the extremity of the machine, and men upon the stern drew it up by pulleys; others at the head assisting in raising it with levers. The galleys afterwards being brought forward to the foot of the walls, the machines were applied to them. The bridge of the sambuca was then let down, no doubt after the manner of a drawbridge, upon which the besiegers passed to the walls of the place besieged. This machine had not the expected effect. Whilst it was at a considerable distance from the walls, Archimedes discharged a vast stone upon it, weighing ten quintals,[5] then a second, and immediately after a third, all of which, striking against it with dreadful force and noise, beat down and broke its supports, and gave the galleys upon which it stood such a shock, that they parted from each other. Marcellus, almost discouraged and at a loss what to do, retired as fast as possible with his galleys, and sent orders to the land forces to do the same. He called also a council of war, in which it was resolved, the next day before dawn, to endeavour to approach close to the walls. They were in hopes, by this means, to shelter themselves from the machines, which, for want of a distance proportioned to their force, would be rendered ineffectual. But Archimedes had provided against all contingencies. He had prepared machines long before, that carried to all distances a proportionate number of darts and ends of beams, which being very short, required less time for preparing them, and in consequence, were more frequently discharged. He had besides made small chasms or loopholes in the walls, at little distances, where he had placed scorpions,[6] which, not carrying far, wounded those who approached, without being perceived but by their effect. When the Romans had gained the foot of the walls, and thought themselves very well covered, they found they were exposed to an infinite number of darts, or overwhelmed with stones, which fell directly upon their heads, there being no part of the wall which did not continually pour that mortal hail upon them. This obliged them to retire. But they were no sooner removed to some distance, than a new discharge of darts overtook them in their retreat, so that they lost great numbers of men, and almost all their galleys were disabled or beaten to pieces, without being able to revenge their loss upon their enemies, for Archimedes had placed most of his machines in security behind the walls; so that the Romans, says Plutarch, repulsed by an infinity of wounds, without seeing the place or hand from which they came, seemed to fight in reality against the gods.
Marcellus, though at a loss what to do, and not knowing how to oppose the machines of Archimedes, could not forbear, however, jesting upon them. “Shall we persist,” said he, to his workmen and engineers, “in making war with this Briareus of a geometrician, who treats my galleys and sambucæ so rudely? He infinitely exceeds the fabled giants with their hundred hands, in his perpetual and surprising discharge upon us.” Marcellus had reason for complaining of Archimedes alone; for the Syracusans were really no more than members of the engines and machines of that great geometrician, who was himself the soul of all their powers and operations. All other arms were unemployed; for the city at that time made use of none, either offensive or defensive, but those of Archimedes. Marcellus, at length observing the Romans to be so much intimidated, that if they saw upon the walls a small cord only or the least piece of wood, they would immediately fly, crying out that Archimedes was going to discharge some dreadful machine upon them, renounced his hopes of being able to make a breach in the walls, gave over his attacks, and turned the siege into a blockade. The Romans perceived that they had no other resource but to reduce the great number of people in the city by famine, and that they must stop every supply, both by sea and land. During the eight months in which they besieged the city, there was no kind of stratagem they did not invent, nor any act of valour they left untried, except, indeed, the assault, which they never ventured to attempt again. So much power has sometimes a single man, or a single science, when rightly applied. Deprive Syracuse of only one old man,—the great strength of the Roman arms must inevitably take the city: his sole presence checks and disconcerts all their designs. We here see what cannot be repeated too often,—how much interest princes have in protecting arts, favouring the learned, or encouraging science by honourable distinctions and actual rewards, which never ruin or impoverish a state. We say nothing in this place of the birth or nobility of Archimedes; he was not indebted to them for the happiness of his genius and profound knowledge; we consider him only as a learned man, and an excellent geometrician. What a loss would Syracuse have sustained, if, to have saved a small expense and pension, such a man had been abandoned to inaction and obscurity! Hiero was careful not to act in this manner. He knew all the value of our geometrician; and it is no vulgar merit in a prince to understand that of other men. He paid it due honour; he made it useful, and did not stay till occasion or necessity obliged him to do so: it would then have been too late. By a wise foresight, the true character of a great prince and a great minister, in the very arms of peace he provided all that was necessary for supporting a siege, and making war with success, though at that time there was no appearance of anything to be apprehended from the Romans, with whom Syracuse was allied in the strictest friendship. Hence were seen to arise in an instant, as out of the earth, an incredible number of machines of every kind and size, the very sight of which was sufficient to strike armies with terror and confusion. There are amongst those machines some of which we can scarcely conceive the effects, and the reality of which we might be tempted to call in question, if it were allowable to doubt the evidence of writers, such, for instance, as Polybius, an almost contemporary author, who treated of facts entirely recent, and such as were well known to all the world. But how can we refuse to give credit to the uniform consent of Greek and Roman historians, whether friends or enemies, with regard to circumstances of which whole armies were witnesses and experienced the effects, and which had so great an influence on the events of the war? What passed in this siege of Syracuse shows how far the ancients had carried their genius and art in besieging and in supporting sieges. Our artillery, which so perfectly imitates thunder, has not more effect than the machines of Archimedes had, if indeed it has so much. A burning glass is spoken of, by the means of which Archimedes is said to have burnt part of the Roman fleet. That must have been an extraordinary invention; but, as no ancient author mentions it, it is no doubt a modern tradition without foundation. Burning-glasses were known to antiquity, but not of that kind.[7]